Chapter 11 - The Price of Staying Clean
“Freeze it,” Rico said.
The finance director hesitated.
“It could interrupt payroll.”
“Freeze the transfer.”
“I need the bank to verify—”
“Then get them on the phone.”
For the next hour, the kitchen became an office.
Rico’s lawyer called the bank.
The finance director documented the unauthorized order.
Ortiz requested the relevant records.
Nobody broke a door.
Nobody disappeared.
Clara watched Rico pace like a man learning to breathe through a locked jaw.
Finally, the bank stopped the transfer pending review.
Rico put both hands on the counter.
Dante let out a breath.
A small voice came from the doorway.
“Daddy mad?”
Leo stood in dinosaur pajamas.
Rico turned.
Then crouched.
“Yes.”
Leo’s mouth trembled.
“Me?”
“No, buddy. Not you.”
The boy waited.
Rico held out one hand without moving closer.
Leo approached slowly.
He touched two fingers.
Clara looked away to give them the moment.
Later, she found Rico alone on the back steps.
“They’ll look at everything,” he said.
“The police?”
He nodded.
“Business records. Contracts. People I paid because it was easier than asking questions.”
“Did you know about the charity?”
“No.”
She believed him.
That did not make everything else disappear.
“Elena asked me to clean things up,” he said.
“I told her I was keeping us safe.”
Clara sat on the other end of the step.
“Were you?”
He did not answer.
Inside, a phone rang.
Dante opened the door.
“Ortiz.”
Marco had agreed to cooperate formally.
In return, he wanted protection and consideration for his testimony.
He also had information about the threat sent to Clara.
Vincent had ordered him to frighten her off.
Marco had used a prepaid phone.
But he insisted he had not sent the second warning.
Clara frowned.
“There were two texts.”
Dante looked at Rico.
Ortiz continued through the speaker.
“Bellini says he sent the first. Stay away from the house.”
“And the other?” Clara asked.
“We’re working on it.”
Her own phone lit up on the step beside her.
Unknown number.
This time, there was no text.
Only a photograph.
Evan leaving his evening class.
May you like
Clara stood so fast that the phone slipped from her hand.
For the first time since she had crossed Il Destino’s marble floor, she wished she had kept walking.
